14 in a toilet
by MAKEMESOMETEA
Summary: England hosts the G8 5 meeting in the deputy Prime Minister, Nick Clegg's toilet. Obviously, all does not go well. Rated T for England's foul mouth. CRACK!
1. Chapter 1

So Angleterre, as charming as this all is… Please explain why we are having the G8+5 in a bathroom?" France was confused. As was just about everyone else in here. They were also rather squished, which for him, was good. He'd already just about groped everyone in the room. "Can you also explain why there are fourteen people in a group of thirteenc"

The look on England's face was priceless to France. It just made him smirk more and more. He looked thoroughly put out, and was completely and utterly embarrassed. France gave his upper thigh another squeeze just to make him go redder.

"Get off me you fucking pervert!" England practically bellowed, slapping France's hand away as he went, if possible an even brighter shade of scarlet. France just chuckled, and slid his hand back. "And I don't know any more than you do! In fact, Clegg, why are we having the G8+5 meeting in your bathroom! I asked you to book us the meeting room!"

"I did!" Clegg whined, wide eyed and looking very much like an abused and abandoned puppy. "But then Dave came along and said he'd needed to change it and then he told me to come here, and stay in the meeting and I didn't have any say!" England sighed, wriggling slightly as he tried to get more comfortable. No easy feat considering he was sandwiched between France and Nick Clegg. France, England and for some reason, Clegg were all sharing the bath tub, while Russia sat on the toilet lid, muttering something in Russian and making the KOLKOLOLKOLKOLKOLKOL sound. Italy was in the sink, several hand towels over him and fast asleep, America was standing by the door eating a hamburger and yelling something, while everyone else sat on the floor. Germany look constipated and kept yelling at England and Clegg, only to be awarded by the two Brits yelling back at him. Although Clegg had a tendency to yell slowly, and attempt to negotiate.

All in all, it was the single most embarrassing moment of England's life.

"Now everyone, I think we could get rid off all our nu…" Clegg rambled on about something no one cared about, because by now, everyone had forgotten him. Canada then decided to start talking to him, but quickly changed his mind, as Clegg began making strange hand movements and completely blanked him.

"Hey Iggy!" America yelled, spraying bits of hamburger all over everybody.

"Don't call me that git! GET OFF ME FRANCIS! And I swear to God. If you don't stop eating I personally will take that hamburger and stick it up your-!"

"EVERYBODY QUIET!" It seemed as if Germany had finally snapped completely. This caused Italy to wake up with the cry of

"PPPPPAAASSSTTAAAA!" America to shout;

"WOAH! I JUST HAD A SUDDEN CRAVING FOR ITALIAN FOOD!"

"Does anyone want any snacks, aru!"

" Just let me finish this hamburger!"

"Germany! Everything was under control until-GET OFF ME YOU DAMN STUPID FROG!"

"Heehee! It is so funny watching you all kill each other, da."

"Oahh.. But mon petite lapin~! It definitely feels like you enjoy it."

"GET THE HELL OFF ME YOU PERVERTED, WANKER!"

"Arthur… I don't think Cameron would like you to knock France out with his tea cups."

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THAT FECKING FASCIST BASTARD!"

"… I'll go make coffee.."

Canada looked wistfully at Clegg as he escaped out the door, tail between his legs. He sighed, wishing he'd taken the easy way out.


	2. Omake

**AC: Guys I'd like to thank you all so much! I never dreamed it would actually be this popular. So to say thank you for all the favourites and comments I decided to make a little omake! Please keep reviewing! And thank you so much!**

Daniel Grain Alexander was desperate for the toilet. He had been desperate for the toilet twenty minuet ago, when he had first come to the toilet door, but by now... The scottsman was sure he was going to shit himself. Just as he began searching for the nearest plant pot, and private place to releive his chocolate logs, the door swung open. A stream of people poured out, possibly the oddest crowed he had ever seen.

Probably the most multicultural too.

He thought he could see Chinese, Russian, African and goodness knows what else. Still slighly puzzled, he ran into the small white room and dropped his pants, seating himself upon the toilet as he let go.

He breathed a sigh of relief and struggled to keep his.. Flatulence under control.

It was then he noticed the people.

Three of them, apparently struggling to get out of the bathtub, were they all had been sitting. And he recognised two of them.

One was a man he had seen around a fair bit, never been introduced or knew what he did, but he seemed very important. Another person in the bath was a blonde man he didn't recognise, and the third... Oh fuck it. Was Nick Clegg.

Ohhh shit.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, the bath guys staring impolitely at his... Crotch, before he jumped up, pulling his pants and trousers up quickly, holding them up rather than zipping them together.

"Do you mind!" He turned away, blushing profoundly before fumbling with the buttons on his trousers.

"Umm... Nick... I think we need to talk in your office.. About the meeting. So um.."

"Yes of course Arthur.. Lets go.."

The two, now somehow totally agile swung out of the bath, and practically ran out the door, bringing the coffee cups with them. Leaving Daniel with France. The poor man...

"Mon cher... Would you like me to help you with that~?"


End file.
